


Tradition

by Patrocool (all_the_homo)



Series: patchwork quilt [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Gen, Holidays, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Nonbinary Character, Pagan Character(s), Pumpkin Spice Lattes, Yule, alcohol mention, friendships, its lafayette are yall surprised, mostly just philip and georges though, not really even mentioned but we all know theodosia senior dies as well as philips mom, off screen but important to one of the scenes, small Children, the adults are just hungover in one part thats it, you get to see the squad as littles, youre gonna get sad reading these flashbacks even though the flashbacks themselves arent that sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9160537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_homo/pseuds/Patrocool
Summary: Lafayette just scoffed and turned away. “Merry fucking Christmas, John. We’re taking you home with us, we have a room ready and everything. I don’t want to hear a single damn complaint from you, got it? You need someone to help take care of you since you are incompetent of doing it yourself.”He swallowed, and stared at them. “You serious?”Lafayette’s jaw tightened as they stepped towards him. “Deadly,” they said, hands stuffed in their pockets. “We are furious, yes, but you’re still our best friend, and we are extremely concerned for your well being, so you’re coming home with us. Now, can you stand?”John nodded, and slowly sat up, bracing himself. Maybe he wouldn’t be as alone as he thought he would be these holidays.* * * * *Or, Philip, Theo, Frances, and Georges have different ways of celebrating the holidays, as do their parents.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! Patrocool here, hoping everyone had a decent holiday season, and if you didn't, here's a fic to cheer you up!
> 
> I highly recommend reading the first parts of this series before reading this, bc a lot of it will make more sense then, but here's a quick recap. Not all of this has already been covered but it will be, I swear.
> 
> -Lafayette was in abusive relationship with Georges' mother and she dumped him after he chose his son over her  
> -John joined the army straight out of high school to support his daughter, Frances, and her mother, Martha, as well as run away from his problems  
> -Philip is John and Alex's foster kid & he moved in with them in August/September  
> -Philip is a sophomore (10th grade), Theo and Georges are juniors (11th grade), and Frances is a senior (12th grade)  
> -Theodosia senior died in Theo's freshman year of high school  
> -Georges has vitiligo (where patches of skin lose pigment- white coloration on otherwise dark skin, for instance), and is v self conscious about it (there will be more fics on this later)  
> -Alex and Jefferson have office wars. This isn't necessary to the story in the slightest, but i wanted everyone to know that.  
> -Cato and Hercules are queer-platonic partners.
> 
> Flashbacks are italicized!

_“Papa! It’s snowing, it’s snowing!” Eight-year-old Georges Washington de Lafayette skidded down the hallway of the small apartment he and his parent shared with Hercules and Cato, and tackle hugged Lafayette, burying his face in their stomach. “It’s snowing, Papa.”_

_Lafayette laughed, smiling softly at their son, smoothing over his bushy hair gently. “That’s right, Georges, it is snowing. Daddy and Uncle Cato will be home soon too, and we can go to Central Park. How does that sound?”_

_“Can Franny come too?” Georges asked hopefully, looking up at Lafayette with wide eyes._

_They grinned, and kissed his forehead. “But of course, mon petit prince, what is a prince without his princess, no?”_

_Their son giggled and shook his head. “Papa, I don’t like girls, silly, can’t princes love princes too? Besides, Franny hates being a princess. She’s a knight.”_

_Lafayette blinked a little in surprise but beamed, picking Georges up and whirling him around. “Of course they can, mon cher, I sincerely apologize for assuming. Now, go gather up your stuff, and I’ll call John to see if our little Frances can join us, oui?”_

* * * * *

“Pumpkin spice lattes are an abomination, GG, I can’t believe you drink that crap.” Frances huffed, scowling at the cup in Georges’ hand.

He frowned at her, and shrugged, taking a sip. “I think it’s good. PD, what do you think?”

“I think it’s cold as shit, and w-we should go somewhere warm instead of standing out in the snow like a bunch of idiots,” Philip shivered, voice muffled from the scarf wrapped around his mouth. He burrowed deeper into his new, puffy winter coat, and clutched his own drink close to his chest. Georges looked concerned, and shrugged off his coat, gently wrapping Philip with it. “Thanks,” Philip murmurs.

“I agree with Philip, somewhere warm would be nice though. Fran, your mom’s is closest, do you think we can sneak in there to hang out?” Theo pipped up, woolen hat tugged snugly over her ears. In her hands, she was cradling a cup of chai tea.

“Wouldn’t advise it, I think she’s dating someone, but she won’t admit it. It’s best not to show up unannounced when she could be diddly doing the do, if you know what I mean.”

Georges made a disgusted face. “I know exactly what you mean. Papa and Dad thought I had gone over to your guys’ house a few weeks ago, and uh. Decided to take advantage of the fact that they were “alone”, quote on quote. Let’s just say I didn’t want to know that Papa and I call Dad the same thing.” He stared off into the distance, clearly traumatized.

“Oh my god.” Frances stared for a second before cackling, her head tilted back. Georges pouted at her and Theo patted his arm sympathetically. “So sorry you had to go through that.”

Philip huffed in annoyance, and looked at them impatiently. “If we’re not going to the heights, where are we going? I’m really cold, guys, New York is fucking freezing.”

“Georges? Your house is second closest.” As soon as he nodded his affirmation, Philip shoved forward towards the subway, and the others followed, the city lights twinkling around them.

* * * * *

_It was three days before Christmas when John was finally sent home. It wasn’t that willing, but he had been shot in the shoulder, and was honorably discharged from the army. He had been overseas for five years, sending home letters with the money he earned, Skyping rarely, and actually visiting even rarer._

_(He had visited three times in total; Frances’ first birthday, her second birthday, and the Thanksgiving after she turned four, which is when Martha finally confronted him and he admitted that he did not have feelings for her because he was gay.)_

_As much as Martha assured him that he could stay with her while he recovered, he knew it wasn’t fair to her. He didn’t want to burden her with this, so after he got off the plane in LaGuardia, he sat down in one of the chairs by the baggage claim in his fatigues and arm in a sling, heavily bandaged, and waited. For what, he had no idea. No one was picking him up. He had nowhere to go, and he was thoroughly exhausted, and his shoulder ached terribly._

_He must’ve dozed off, because next thing he heard were hushed voices. Voices he recognized but must’ve been imagining, because there was no way it was happening. He didn’t deserve to even be in their presence._

_“-shouldn’t wake him, Herc, I mean, look at him, he looks terrible.” The first voice said, hushed and quick._

_“We have two small children with us, we can’t wait forever. We’re just lucky they haven’t woken up yet.” A second one chimed in, low and calm. A heavy sigh followed his words._

_“Ten more minutes, but that’s it. We are in an airport, in case you’ve forgotten.” Thick French accent with a soft, lilting voice._

_“I think he’s waking up,” a fourth, unfamiliar voice said right behind him, deep and smooth. John jolted away, eyes flying open. A strangled gasp escaped his mouth as his shoulder sent a new wave of pain through him, and his vision went white._

_“Oh Jesus, John, John, can you hear me?” Someone was touching his knee, and it was too much, there was someone he didn’t know with his family._

_He didn’t even realize he was hyperventilating until his cheek was being tapped. “At ease, soldier. You’re safe here. I’m Hercules’ friend, Cato. I’ll take the kids and go sit over there until he’s calmed down enough.” The last sentence, John figured, was aimed at the others._

_Slowly, the clouds lifted away from his eyes, and he was able to focus on the people around him, specifically Alexander fucking Hamilton, kneeling on the ground in front of him and counting softly in Spanish, something he used to do when John had anxiety attacks in school._

_God, Alex looked even more beautiful than he remembered. He was finally letting his facial hair grow a little, and his long, silky hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he looked nice in a white button up shirt and black pants._

_In that moment, John wanted nothing more than to have Alex’s way with words to describe the literal god in front of him._

_Slowly, he looked up at the other two as well, Hercules looking the same as ever, but with a more hardened look to him, and Lafayette wearing surprisingly calm clothing, just a t-shirt and pair of plain blue jeans. The only time John could remember Lafayette ever dressing down to something like that was when their grandmother came into town, and they were trying so hard to make her proud of them. Something was definitely off there, and John was going to have to ask about it later. He had missed out on so much, and he wished he didn’t have to, but he couldn’t let them see what the war had made him into._

_“Why are you guys here?” John asked softly, grimacing as he shifted his shoulder again. He had to close his eyes, and breathe slowly to block out the sharp pain the followed.  
Alex was scowling at him when he opened his eyes. “If your shoulder wasn’t wounded, jackass, I would slap you right now. Despite your rude ass attempts to cut us off, you’re still our best friend, and we’re not gonna let you be homeless, especially not with a hole in your arm.”_

_“How’d you even find out about that?”_

_Alex threw his hands up in frustration. “Who do you think helped take care of Franny all of these years? She started calling me “Papa” the other day because she doesn’t understand that her real daddy is across the world. I was the one who comforted Martha when she was called and told that you were in surgery and it wasn’t determined whether you were gonna make it out alive or not, John fucking Laurens. I told her that if you died, I’d be the one to tell Franny, and do you realize how hard it’d be to tell a little kid that her father that she’s only met two or three times would never come home at all?”_

_John flinched back, and shrunk under the tongue lashing, looking down. “Alex-”_

_“No. I don’t care. Fuck you, Laurens.” Alex stormed off towards a short man with dark cropped hair with a little girl he realized was his daughter, and a little boy he didn’t recognize. He figured that was the man that was with them earlier, Catty or whatever._

_John swallowed hard, and stared after him for a moment before turning to Lafayette and Hercules desperately. “Are you guys mad at me too?”_

_“To be fair, Alex has plenty of good reasons to be angry with you,” Hercules said, looking unimpressed as he crossed his arms. “You’ve missed a lot in these five years, including and not limited to Lafayette having a kid, and being in an abusive relationship for a year and a half, Alex being in the hospital…. How many times?”_

_“Thirteen. About ten of those are from passing out in unfortunate places from pure exhaustion, one of those is from fever, two from bike crashes, and one time from getting mugged, and beat to a pulp because he thought he could, how you say, “hulk” it.” Lafayette said softly, leaning against Hercules’ side._

_“Right. You also missed his mental breakdown, Mr. Washington’s retirement from being a principal and new law firm, last Thanksgiving-” Both shuddered at that, “And, you know, pretty much every milestone Frances and Georges have hit so far. Also like three bar fights.”_

_Guilt settled onto John’s face as he looked at them. “I… I had no idea-”_

_“Well, maybe if you hadn’t ignored our every attempt at communication, perhaps you would know,” Lafayette replied, arms crossed against their chest._

_He flinched, and shrank back a little. “I….” He had no excuse to give except the truth, and he couldn’t give that._

_Lafayette just scoffed and turned away. “Merry fucking Christmas, John. We’re taking you home with us, we have a room ready and everything. I don’t want to hear a single damn complaint from you, got it? You need someone to help take care of you since you are incompetent of doing it yourself.”_

_He swallowed, and stared at them. “You serious?”_

_Lafayette’s jaw tightened as they stepped towards him. “Deadly,” they said, hands stuffed in their pockets. “We are furious, yes, but you’re still our best friend, and we are extremely concerned for your wellbeing, so you’re coming home with us. Now, can you stand?”_

_John nodded, and slowly sat up, bracing himself. Maybe he wouldn’t be as alone as he thought he would be these holidays._

* * * * *

“Ready to go, kiddo?”

“Yeah- wait, I almost forgot the horn. Gimme a minute, I think I left it in the kitchen.”

“We’re not in a hurry, Theo, they won’t go wassailing without us. The Yule feast is first.”

Theo rushed back into the house anyways, much to the amusement to her father. She made a beeline for the kitchen, cursing quietly when she noticed the line that held their prayer flags up was fraying from where it was strung up by a nail. She decided to fix it when she got home, grabbing the carved wooden horn from where it rested on the toaster oven and smiling fondly down on it.

“We’ll be drinking to you, Mom, on Mother’s Night. Dad won’t let me drink the mead, don’t worry, we’ll have that fancy apple cider like we always do.” Theo murmured, rubbing the side of the horn. She walked back outside, and grinned at her father, pulling her gloves on. “Got it.”

Aaron smiled and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “Good. Now, let’s go, we can catch the 4:50 subway, we’re taking the train out to Andrea’s parents’ orchards in Jersey. We’re meeting everyone in the bakery at the Madison entrance to Penn Station.”

“Are Trevor and Eleanor going to be there? I want to see if she’s found her path deity yet, she said last time she couldn’t figure out who it was.”

“She’s twelve, honey,” Aaron said, a little amused. “I think she’ll be pretty confused for a while, it’s hard for someone to put a finger on it that early. After all, you’ve only found your calling a few months ago.”

“Thoth! I mean, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out earlier, it seems so obvious in my mind, now that I’ve finally figured it out. But that’s not the point, Dad, she was really close last time, I could just feel it. I’m just excited we have more Egyptian Pagans, you know? It was just us for the longest time.” Theo sighed happily, and grinned at Aaron. He chuckled, and ruffled her hair.

“It is nice. Especially since Trevor and Eleanor are so open to incorporating other Pagan traditions into their practice like we are, I’m sure you remember Oliver-”

“Ugh, dad, don’t even talk about Oliver, he said that Osiris would toss our hearts to Ammut, because we didn’t worship our gods correctly. There is no correct way, not really. As long as you give the deities the respect they deserve, you’re doing it right.” Theo huffed, crossing her arms with a roll of her eyes.

“Theo, it was simply what he believed,” Aaron reprimanded, but the slight smile on his face showed his approval.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Kemetics believe that you have to stick to the stupid books, I know. Whatever, dad, ever the peacekeeper and middle man. No wonder Ma’at chose you,” she teased, bumping shoulders with him. He laughed softly.

“Hey, now, don’t be rude to your father. I’m proud to follow the path of Ma’at, your mother was the one who showed me what I was missing.” His face turned wistful, and Theo softened, taking his hand to squeeze it comfortingly.

“I know, Dad. She found you out in the cold one night, lost as a lamb, and brought you home. She fed you, gave you tea, and a warm place to stay for the night. She told you before you went to bed, “Put this under your pillow, it’ll bring you clear thoughts, and help you solve your problems,” and handed you an herb pouch. When you woke up, you felt like you had purpose again. You felt like a new man.” Her voice was soft as she recounted the story she had heard so many times over the years.

“She had all of these plants growing everywhere, and I thought for sure she was one of those health nuts that had homemade, organic remedies for everything.” He laughed, smiling fondly.

“You asked her to teach you how she did what she did, and she just smiled and said, “I didn’t do that for you. You have a deity watching out for you.” You thought it was total bull crap at first, and were upset that she wouldn’t tell you what she did, and then she showed you her faith.” Theo tugged a small silver amulet out of her shirt, and studied the pendent, the little statue of Bastet.

“Her goddess,” Aaron looked at the necklace as well, and smiled faintly. “I loved her more than anything, you know. Well. Anything except you, of course.”

“I know, Dad. We both loved her.” Theo looked at the streets, and smiled when she saw gentle flakes starting to fall.

* * * * *

_“Aaron, that’s not how it works!” A bright, bubbling laugh erupted from her throat, and Aaron could do nothing but stare in awe. She brushed her long, curly black hair over her shoulder and gently took the bowl of wassail from him. “You don’t just pour it over the plant. In fact, that’s not even the right plant. Typically, you would do it over in apple orchards, but I live in the city, so I have to make do. Pour it into my little vegetable garden, and we’ll sing the song together, okay?”_

_He nodded and took the bowl he was offered, the two of them moving to the racks in the dining room where her garden resided. “Okay. Right now?”_

_“Would you rather wait until Yuletide is over?” She teased, before starting to sing, voice soft and beautiful. Aaron did his best to sing along as the poured the liquid over the plants, careful not to drown them._

_Once the song was over, and the wassail was all poured, she stepped back and smiled. “Usually, it’s just the men that do that, but as long as they get their wassail, I don’t think they’ll mind.”_

_“They? You mean, like, your gods and goddesses?” Aaron asked uncertainly._

_Her blinding smile turned to him, leaving him breathless with all of his walls down. He felt reckless, and vulnerable, and open when she looked at him, but he couldn’t find a single cell in his body that didn’t like it._

_“No, Aaron, the plants.” She explained patiently. She took his hand and pulled him closer to the little clay box that held Theodosia’s tiny garden. “Can you feel it? They’re pleased. Nature is in balance. Ma’at- she’s the goddess of balance, you see, but her name is also what we call it when it is all at peace. Ma’at is here.”_

_He swallowed, and as much as he tried, grasping for a feeling of something- anything- he didn’t feel it. His shoulders slumped, and he looked at the plants in betrayal. He wanted to believe. He wanted to feel this Ma’at of Theodosia’s, he wanted to learn this from her, but there was nothing. He pressed his lips together, not wanting to turn to tell her that, no, he didn’t feel this thing that she could. He didn’t want to disappoint her._

_As always, Theodosia soothed his fears and anxieties. She gently cupped his cheek- her hands were calloused, but soft, something Aaron didn’t understand, and wasn’t sure he wanted to- and oh so gently, in that way of hers, turned his face towards her, and she smiled so softly. “It’s okay, Aaron,” she murmured, her eyes so alive, and dancing, like a warm hearth on a cold, winter night. That’s what she was, really. A warm, welcoming hearth, graceful and dancing, but strong, and fierce when fueled._

_Aaron was never one to play with fire, but how could he not, when she was calling him in, so welcome and protective, willing to wrap him in her comforting embrace? When she was willing to stand by him, and teach him, patient, and caring, as he stumbled like a newborn foal into her world? Aaron would follow her to the end of the world, if that was what she wanted, yet he knew she realized this power, and would never use it to hurt him. She understood him like no one else, and he’d carry her on his hands if she’d let him._

_“Not everyone catches on quickly, Aaron, it’s okay. It’ll take a while, but you’ll get it once you open your soul, and let Ma’at fill you. Let her flow through you like a lazy river, let the peace fill your senses, feel what is happening around you. Tell me what you feel.” Theodosia’s voice was soft, but passionate. Her eyes were bright, the hearth picking up as fuel was added to the flame._

_“I feel…” He hesitated, closing his eyes slowly. His hand reached up to cover the hand on his cheek. “I feel the building under my feet. It’s solid, and still. I feel the wind from your window. I feel you. Your hand on my cheek, your breathing, your pulse.” His body released its tension, and he leaned forward._

_“You’re doing good, Aaron,” she murmured. “What else do you feel?”_

_A smile flitted across his lips. “Us. It… It’s like we’re one, a single tree staying still in the middle of a storm. Strong and united.”_

_He knew she was smiling too. He could feel it._

_“A tree of us, Aaron. How poetic. I love it.”_

_He only had to move a few inches to kiss her, somehow knowing exactly where to go. He figured he had a deity looking out for him. He understood then when Theodosia said the deities were like a divine family to her, that she wasn’t joking. And now he was joining that family. Nothing could make this moment better._

_Theodosia was the one who broke the kiss first, and he opened his eyes curiously. She took his hand, smiling at the engagement ring she found there. She gently twisted it so it was aligned correctly, and hesitated before gently pressing his hand to her stomach. “I think I want to paint that tree in the nursery.”_

_The confused question on his lips died as the statement sank in. “No,” he said, disbelief making him sound breathless. His hand pressed against the tiny swell of Theodosia’s stomach._

_Her face broke into a wide grin, and the hearth danced, alight with joy. She was shining. “Yes,” she confirmed._

_Tears welled in his eyes, and he gently wrapped his arms around her, and spun her around, laughter ripping out of his throat as he pressed his face into her neck. “I’m going to be a father,” he gasped out, holding her tight to his body._

_She laughed, and kissed his face. “What do you feel?” She whispered._

_“A family.”_

_* * * * *_

“Okay, so this is how it works. We used to switch of every other year on who got Frances on Christmas and who got her on New Year’s, but Martha, being the wonderful, understanding woman she is, said that this year, we could have her on Christmas and on New Year’s so you could enjoy the holidays with all of us. Though, I might ask Martha to take you and Frances to Times Square for the ball drop with Laf, Herc and Georges since John and I spend New Year’s bundled up inside with loud music,” Alex explained, ticking things off on his fingers. “Besides, I don’t want Martha spending New Year’s alone.”

Philip sat across him on the floor, the coffee table in between them covered in an assortment of case files, tinsel, wrapping paper and candy canes. In the corner next to the electric fireplace, where four stockings hung, was a tall Christmas tree, complete with a silver angel. About a third of the gifts under the tree had his name on them. A third for Frances, and the rest were for John and Alex.

It was hard to wrap his head around, honestly. He had gifts under the tree. He had a stocking over the mantle. The Laurens-Hamiltons were molding their holiday plans around him. They cut out a little niche for him, and started filling in the gaps. They knitted him in like a patchwork quilt.

For the first time since his mother died, he was spending the holidays with someone who actually wanted him around.

“Do you need to get anymore shopping done or anything? You still have a lot of money your card that’s yours to use. I can drive you to the mall, I need to go get John’s gift anyways, and I was thinking of picking up supper too,” Alex offered, smiling kindly as he looked up from where he was writing things down in a notebook. “I also need to get stocking stuffers, and I think it’d be fun if you helped with that.”

Philip nodded, used to Alex’s flood of words. It had been hard to get used to at first, but he knew how to filter through to get the important things the longer he stayed. Alex flashed him a grin, and finished writing something before standing and stretching.

“Perfect. Let’s go, grab whatever you need. Dress warmly, I know you’re like me, and get cold easily.” He was already rushing around, searching for his keys.

“They’re on the table. Your wallet is next to the toaster,” Philip said over his shoulder as he walked to the stairs to go to his room. He was quick on putting on a sweater and a coat, and going back down to the living room to pull on his converse.

Alex ruffled Philip’s curly hair and checked his phone. “Alright, I’m gonna go make sure John is sleeping, okay? Eighteen hour shifts are hard on him, especially around the holidays. Make sure you have everything, and if you could grab the reusable bags from wherever I put them, that’d be great too.” He paused when he saw Philip’s shoes. “And that’s how you get sick, kid. We’re getting you snow boots, there’s supposed to be snow tonight.”

His eyes went a bit wide at that. “Is there really?” He asked, pausing and staring at Alex in wonder. The man grinned and pulled up the weather app on his phone to show him.

“Yup,” he confirmed. “Now. Go get your stuff together. I’ll be down in a jiffy, and we can go, okay?”

With a nod from Philip, Alex quietly climbed up the stairs, and slipped into his bedroom, smiling softly when he saw his sleeping husband. He gently sat on the bed, and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. John stirred at the touch, blinking, and smiling sleepily upon finding Alex. “’Lex?” he mumbled, making to move over.

Alex shushed him, kissing his temple. “Shh, just sleep, my sweet Laurens, I’m going shopping with Philip, alright? I’ll be home soon; I’ll bring home that fried chicken you love so much.”

“Laurens-Hamilton,” John corrected, eyes slipping shut again, sleep already taking over his body. Alex chuckled and kissed his forehead once more before leaving the room.

He met Philip in the front hall, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Alright, kid, ready to go?”

Philip nodded, and they walked out the front doors, and down the street, chatting over the din of the city.

* * * * *

_“Mama! Mama, wake up, abuela and Mr. Smith are here, they say the parrandas is starting soon! Get up, get up, Mama!”_

_Isabel de Luna woke to her seven-year-old son bouncing on her stomach, his face lit up in excitement. She winced a little, but smiled kindly at her beloved son, cupping his cheek in her hand. “Mijo, you invited them in, yes?” She said, raising an eyebrow._

_“Of course I did, Mami!” Philip grinned widely, and jumped off of the mattress that they shared in the single bedroom in their tiny apartment in one of the poor neighborhoods of Havana. Sure, the ceiling was a little cracked, the windows had an awful draft, and the floor had some spots from water damage, but overall it wasn’t the worst place. Just not the most suitable for a sickly woman, and a young child._

_Isabel watched as Philip rushed out to the main room where she knew the kind American couple from down the block where waiting. She quickly got dressed, and walked out to great them, smiling widely. “Mrs. Smith, Mr. Smith,” she greeted quietly._

_The old, blonde woman laughed softly, and pulled her into a hug, gently stroking her hair. “Isabel,” she said, her tone playfully scolding. “How many times must I tell you to call me Abuela, or at least Lucy?” Her accent wasn’t perfect, but her Spanish was good enough for Isabel to understand what she was saying._

_Isabel just laughed, and moved to the kitchen to take stock of food, which was mostly beans and rice. She pursed her lips, and sighed. She wouldn’t be able to go grocery shopping until the New Year, since that was when she got paid._

_“We brought food, someone made a little too much this morning,” Lucy said softly, coming up behind her. “We even made turron.”_

_Isabel sighed, glancing to where Philip was excitedly talking to John, Lucy’s husband. “You didn’t need to do all of this, I’m not some charity case-”_

_“No, none of that, my dear. We are doing this because we want to. It’s okay to accept help. You can always ask for it from us, whatever you need.” She paused, and twisted her shirt with her hand. “John and I were talking, and… Well. We don’t think we want you paying for Philip’s English lessons anymore.”_

_Isabel froze. “What? What do you mean?”_

_“I mean that we will no longer take any money from you. You need that money to feed yourself, and Philip, and get the two of you to America, to start that restaurant of yours. We don’t have any need or use for it.”_

_She stared at Lucy, blinking owlishly. “You don’t mean that.”_

_“I do. Feliz Navidad, Isabel. Now, eat your breakfast so Philip can open his presents from Papa Noel, and you can get to work. We’ll take Philip to the parrandos, and spoil him a little, we get to do that since it’s Christmas. And you will not have to worry about a thing when you come home and we eat like a family with the Santiagos, si?” Lucy rubbed Isabel’s shoulder gently, and gently brushed a tear of her cheek. “Hurry, hurry, the child grows impatient.”_

_Isabel laughed through her tears, and used her aprons to wipe her tears before going out to watch as Philip opened his gifts. (A drawing pad and some crayons, a few American children’s books, most by a man of the name “Dr. Suess”, a little tin car, and a cloth doll.) Once he was finished, she kissed his forehead, told him to be good, and left the apartment._

_Today, Isabel de Luna would be slaving away in a hot kitchen of a nearby resort to earn money to survive. But that night, she would be eating like a queen, with her little boy at her side._

* * * * *

“John,” Alexander’s voice was muffled from where he was pressing it into his husband’s stomach. “Don’t move or I swear to God, I will gut you.”

He chuckled softly, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I thought you might like some coffee, but if you don’t want me to move, by all means, suffer.”

Alex immediately sat up, blinking groggily. “Coffee?” Lafayette chuckled at their brother, and handed him a mug, and Alex looked like he was about to cry. “You are a godsend, Laf, we would probably all die without you.”

Lafayette snorted, and raised a single, elegant eyebrow. “Whatever you say, drama queen,” they teased, going back to snuggle into Hercules’ lap, who was currently staring up at the ceiling with what Lafayette imagined was the world’s greatest hangover. Cato sat next to him, curled up under his arm and staring at the floor unseeingly. In the arm chair across from the trio, Aaron Burr sat, chatting quietly with Martha Manning while their daughters laid on the ground at their feet and dozed. Philip and Georges laid next to the girls, and were quietly debating which Harry Potter book was better, the fifth or third. 

"Don't you just love starting the New Year with a hangover? I mean, you kind of have to, since you do it every year," Lafayette said to Hercules and Cato with a smirk. They had drank last night as well, but they were one of the lucky ones who never got hungover.

Within a few minutes, Aaron got tire of waiting around, and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Would anyone like to fill me in on why Alexander called me at three in the morning and told me that Theo and I had to be here for this?”

Philip gently nudged Frances and Theo awake while Lafayette smiled. “Ah, Little Burr, of course! You have not spent New Year’s with us. Every year we go around and share our resolutions, no matter how ridiculous or out-yard-ish.”

“Outlandish,” Cato corrected with a mumble.

“Yes, my apologies, outlandish.” They stretched a little and relaxed, curled up to Hercules. “I will go first. My New Year’s resolution is to finally get around to the wedding part of our engagement.” Pointed look to their fiancé, who looked sheepish.

“I guess that’s my cue to go next. Mine will have to be to take the love of my life to a honeymoon in their home country,” Hercules said, smiling softly at Lafayette.

Cato pretended to gag. “My resolution is to get these nasty people away from me,” he teased. Hercules and Lafayette laughed, and the latter stuck their tongue out at him. “Seriously, though, my resolution is to retire from being a costume designer who travels the world, and stay here to work with Herc.”

“My resolution is to not drink as much next New Year’s Eve,” Alex piped in, much to John’s amusement.

“That was your resolution last year, baby.” John reminded him, nudging his side. “My resolution is probably to move to the pediatric ward in the hospital, I’m almost done with the training, and that way I can finally get more normal hours.”

Georges nudged Philip, and he looked around nervously. “My New Year’s resolution is to go back and finish the mural I started at the orphanage,” he said quietly. Frances squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“My New Year’s resolution is to get into a bomb ass college,” she said, drawing attention away from her brother. “I think I have a good chance of getting into one with a good science department.”

“I want to start looking into colleges. See which ones offer good psych courses.” Theo said sleepily, head on Frances’ shoulder. None of the adults missed the soft, adoring look Frances gave her.

“My New Year’s Resolution…” Georges hesitated, picking at his fingernails. Philip nodded encouragingly, and the older boy shot him a grateful smile. “Is to get into modeling, like my Papa.”

Lafayette’s face glowed with pride, and they were humming with energy. “You do?”

Georges nodded, and his parent dove forward to scoop him up in a hug.

Martha laughed softly, watching them with amused eyes. “My resolution is to be more relaxed and chill.”

“You’re dating someone, aren’t you?” Frances deadpanned, looking at her mother.

“Her name is Angelica Schuyler, and you are not allowed to interrogate her.” Martha said calmly, leaning against the chair. “Aaron? It’s your turn.”

Aaron looked around at the people around him. Hercules and Cato, cuddling on the loveseat. Alex inhaling coffee from where he was perched in John’s lap. Lafayette cooing and gushing over how wonderful Georges will be as a model while Philip watched fondly. Frances and Theo falling back to seat, leaning against each other, and the new friend he made in Martha.

“My New Year’s resolution is to let new people and traditions into my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, that happened. Tell me what y'all thought, I live for validation in form of comments. (especially the part with aaron and thedosia sr, it was my favorite bit to write and may or may nt have made me cry)
> 
> It's my first time writing Pagan characters, but i did extensive research, and also fact checked with my qp's mom, who's Pagan (and a fucking badass, she plays the ukulele and is !!!!) BUT I am not Pagan myself, so there's a very real chance that I did something weird, or offensive, and if i did, please tell me so v gently bc i am a smol who cant handle criticism. 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr @patrocool (if you follow me, drop me an ask saying hi, and tell me you read my fic!! ask me questions!! request drabbles!!!!), or on twitter @nb_lafayette (where i am likely to post hints and stuff), or on instagram @gaygreekgeek
> 
> also, just so y'all know, cato told a lie, but I won't say where or why:) feel free to guess.
> 
>  
> 
> (paperbound, the faithful beta was here)


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